Imagineering Theory: The Art of Placemaking, Part 2

So I have this theory of sorts regarding how themed areas at Disney parks come across independent of whatever attractions they might boast. I think in order to “work” (however you might interpret that word), a themed area needs to a) represent an easily recognizable concept, and b) entice on the basis of said concept, before you even consider rides and such. Last week, I did a rundown of the lands of Disneyland to see how they stack up, and this week, the quest continues with California Adventure.

Buena Vista Street

The Setting: The standard answer is that this is Southern California as Walt Disney found it when he arrived in the mid-1920s, but that’s not the half of it. For some reason, the Imagineers thought it would be a good idea to name some of the “local businesses” after Walt’s earliest cartoon characters, and devise a fictional backstory pretending it was the other way around—that Walt named his characters after his neighbors. Why this was deemed necessary is beyond me. In any case, the area looks pretty good and most of the period elements are on-point.

Do We Recognize It?: While the overall 1920s aesthetic is pretty well-known, many of the details people associate with the period—speakeasies, gangsters, that sort of thing—would not be appropriate for inclusion in a family theme park. As such, I don't think Buena Vista Street lights up the recognition centers quite as instantaneously as its counterpart across the Esplanade.

Do We Want To Be There?: Again, I have my doubts. Last week, I dismissed Main Street, USA as not quite interesting enough for the average guest to linger in, but it’s practically Wonderland in comparison with Buena Vista Street. This may be unavoidable—the 1900s and early 1910s have a distinctly old-timey vibe, but by the 1920s we’re definitely in modern times,* and on a lifestyle basis it's not that different from the everyday lives of theme park guests. Especially where entertainment is concerned...what is there to do in the big city circa 1925? Listen to recorded music, go to the movies, and go dancing in nightclubs. Wow, we are in some fantasy world now.

So Does It Work?: It works as well as can be expected given the necessary constraints. The live entertainment helps—if you can't have a speakeasy, you can still have jazz!

Hollywood Land

The Setting: Hollywood...ish. It's all the glamor of the film industry, but with very little glamor, only token nods to the industry (it would spoil the magic, d'yersee, if they acknowledged the technical side of things too much), and almost no acknowledgement or examination of the films as films. This is Disney's flailing attempt to siphon guests away from Universal Studios Hollywood and its famous (and excellent) backlot tour, and all the efforts to paper over the cracks and turn it into something that stands on its own have only underscored the confusion.

Do We Recognize It?: You'd think a theme park located half an hour's drive from the real Hollywood could create a more convincing replica. We all have a mental image of “Hollywood,” the very throne of the film industry, and Hollywood Land isn't anyone's. It contains no evidence of film crews, no sunglasses-wearing celebrities, and no references to famous landmarks like the Walk of Fame, Hollywood sign, or Chinese Theater. It mostly just looks like a generic city boulevard with some weird stuff off the the side streets.

Do We Want To Be There?: Even to the extent that we recognize this as Hollywood, we are acutely aware all the time that the real thing is half an hour's drive away. So, no.

So Does It Work?: Clearly not.

“a bug’s land”

The Setting: An ordinary meadow…rendered in giant scale as bugs would see it. Clovers are the size of trees and everything closer to ground level is built out of little bits of junk.

Do We Recognize It?: I’m going to call this one a definite yes—even independent of the specific context of the film it’s referencing, “you’ve shrunk and now everything is huge” is a common spec-fic scenario—one that Disney has dabbled in both before and since. More specifically, even if you knew nothing about “a bug’s life”, the details are presented well enough that you can easily get the idea: this is a bug society that repurposes small items people discard.

Do We Want To Be There?: Mostly. The aforementioned scenario gets a lot of play in fiction because it’s fun to envision. “a bug’s land” suffers slightly because a) it takes this straightforward concept and imposes an unnecessary “fairground” layer on top of it (narrowing its potential), and b) the results are laser-focused on young children at the expense of other age groups.

So Does It Work?: Surprisingly well, actually. There’s a lot of enjoyment to be had in ambling through the area and discovering all the clever details. It would help if there were more hidden paths to explore, however.

Cars Land

The Setting: A tiny rural town somewhere in the desert regions of the Southwestern U.S., situated on Historic Route 66. Only, you know, everyone is cars.

Do We Recognize It?: Well of course we do. Credit where it is due, the Imagineers really made this area look like the town and surrounding landscape from Cars, and who hasn’t seen Cars? And therein lies the rub—without a successful movie franchise backing it up, this conceit would be unfathomably weird. And on that note…

Do We Want To Be There?: …without the “everyone is cars” conceit, a little rundown town in the sticks of Arizona (or wherever) doesn’t have a lot to recommend it. The film is well aware of this—in Cars, Radiator Springs is failing because it’s only real purpose was being a rest stop for tourists traveling Route 66, and the interstate bypasses it entirely. The characters are the real draw here, and that’s potentially dangerous.

So Does It Work?: This may surprise you in light of the above, but…yeah. It does. That landscape of buttes and sagebrush is more compelling to sit and stare at than you might assume, and it compares favorably to “a bug's land” in terms of the potential to just amble around and pick out creative details. It’s probably still lucky the movie trilogy is doing so well, though.

Pacific Wharf

The Setting: It's meant to be the waterfront area of San Francisco. The “factory tour” attractions and hints of commercial fishing give it an industrial vibe that sets it off from the more recreational Paradise Pier.

Do We Recognize It?: On the whole, I don't think so. It doesn't really stand out among the other areas of the park. Moreover, there's nothing about it that evokes San Francisco per se—this could be any American waterfront district.

Do We Want To Be There?: Are we hungry? Then we might want to be there—Pacific Wharf functions as a food court of sorts. Apart from that, no, it's just not compelling enough.

So Does It Work?: This is a hard no. I doubt most guests even recognize Pacific Wharf as distinct from the adjacent Paradise Pier.

Paradise Pier

The Setting: A seaside amusement park, circa 1890 or so. When it opened, it was liberally dusted with California-related buzzwords like Malibu, Mulholland, and oranges, but these proved not to be much of a draw, and nowadays Paradise Pier displays far more Disney character branding.

Do We Recognize It?: The “seaside amusement park” aspect is about as obvious as it gets, but as I mentioned last week, the “circa 1890 or so” aspect tends to get lost in the shuffle.

Do We Want To Be There?: You get seaside amusement parks pretty much anywhere you get seasides...even lakesides, in some cases. This one needs to stand out more to be enticing in and of itself.

So Does It Work?: Not well...which is presumably the reason for the incipient “Pixar Pier” makeover. I'll touch on that again toward the end of the post.

Grizzly Peak (and Airfield)

The Setting: A pastiche of the Northern California wilderness. You want redwoods? We got redwoods! You want whitewater rafting? We got whitewater rafting! You want grizzly bears? We got...fiberglass statues of grizzly bears!

Do We Recognize It? While the Sierras are maybe not the most iconic mountain setting in the world, no one passing through this area has to ask “And what's this supposed to be? What's the point of this?” Even people who don't themselves enjoy camping or other outdoor activities still understand why others do, or at least that others do.

Do We Want To Be There?: Grizzly Peak, like most of California Adventure, suffers from the fact that it's in direct competition with the literal thing it's mimicking. Apart from that, it's a lovely setting (featuring actual shade, a rarity in the park), and most people don't need to be convinced of the benefits of taking a walk in the woods.

So Does It Work?: Overall, yes. It's pleasant and thematically appropriate in the context of the park. You know what doesn't necessarily work though? The 1950s veneer on the Airfield subsection. It's consistent and ties in with the aerospace industry sub-theme, but I don't think it adds anything to the land in and of itself. There is no functional difference between the National Parks today and the National Parks 60 years ago.

Drawing Some Sort of Conclusion From All This

So my theory isn't a slam dunk. There are numerous factors that contribute to the success or non-success of a themed area in a Disney park, and just as shoddy execution can spoil a good concept, skillful execution can turn a weird one into something really compelling and enjoyable.

That said, I still have major doubts about “Pixar Pier.” Seaside amusement parks are a thing—a very familiar thing. A seaside amusement park where everything is covered in Pixar characters, though? Not a thing. Not recognizable sort of place. Even if you love both carnival rides and Pixar, the two concepts do not benefit in any way from being combined. Pixar movies are, at best, only tangentially related to seaside amusement parks. “Pixar,” itself, is not a theme.**

Themed areas that work transport you to exciting places and times where your imagination can run wild—the Old West, a fairytale kingdom, a miniscule insect society. Even in a best-case scenario like the one I described a few weeks ago, “Pixar Pier” is not going to transport you. It's only going to remind you of where you literally are: in a Disney park.***

I question the sustainability of this business model. Brand promotion is traditionally good for profits, but it's not as if people need to visit Disney theme parks in order to get their fill of trademarked Disney/Pixar/Marvel/Lucasfilm characters. They have big-box retail outlets for that. The whole developed world is one giant Disney Store. Who needs a vacation that's only going to offer more of the same?

Can we bring back placemaking, please?

* It’s almost as if something happened in between these two periods that changed the world forever...I went dark again, didn't I?

** Some individual Pixar franchises might function as themes, or work in support of themes. But the studio label as a whole? Nope.

*** But then again...that's pretty much all Paradise Pier does to begin with, so at least it's not a big loss?